Page 32 of Parrish

Chapter Thirteen

Jack Parrish

Reina’s words rang in my ears as I checked on Danny and they continued to play on loop as I entered my bedroom, reminding me of all the ways I’ve failed as a man. I somehow thought if I gave Reina a night she could never forget it would ease the blow of leaving her. She wouldn’t resent me, and her love wouldn’t turn to hate.

The night isn’t even over, and she’s already begun to look at me like I’m the enemy. I can’t say that I blame her. I was just hoping I wouldn’t have to see it, that I’d be long gone, rotting in my cell, before she realized I ruined her life.

Kicking off my boots, I divert my attention to the bathroom door that’s slightly ajar and listen as my wife’s cries blend with the sound of running water. There ain’t nothing in this world that makes me wish for a different life than knowing I’m the cause of her pain. A woman like her doesn’t deserve to suffer.

A woman like Reina should be worshipped.

She should have a man drop to his knees and praise God for her existence.

With that in mind, I reach behind me and pull my shirt over my head as I pad across the carpet, making my way towards the bathroom. Reaching the door, I bend and remove my socks before stepping into the steam-filled room. The tile is cold against my bare feet and I blink against the fog, finding Reina’s naked form hunched under the spray of the shower. For a moment I just watch her, unsure how to proceed. It dawns on me then, like I only have one night to remind her why she fell in love with me, I only have one shot to make her forgive me.

Before I can say a word or make a move, she lifts her head and turns her eyes to me. She doesn’t try to hide the fact she’s been crying, and I realize we’re done pretending.

I pull open the glass door and watch as she straightens her shoulders and blinks away the pellets of water sticking to her long eyelashes. Taking another step closer, I lift my hand to her cheek and step into the shower.

“Your jeans,” she whispers hoarsely.

“Fuck ‘em,” I mutter as my thumb brushes over her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, Reina.”

It doesn’t matter that I’ve apologized countless times since we walked out of the district attorney’s office. I can say it until I’m blue in the face, until my dying day and it won’t erase the damage I’ve caused.

“I know,” she replies, splaying her hand over my chest.

As I continue to stare into her sad eyes a million thoughts race through my mind, making me aware of all the things I wish I could tell her. Things like, if I had another chance at life, I’d choose her. No questions asked, I’d choose her over everything. I’d be a fucking accountant or a reverend. I’d be a fucking straight-laced prick if it meant I didn’t hurt the one person who healed me when the world broke me.

“Kiss me,” she pleads softly, diverting my attention back to her. It’s a simple request and yet it’s one I’ve taken for granted. After tomorrow, I won’t get to touch these perfect lips. I won’t taste her sweetness. I won’t fucking bask in her light. I’ll fall into the darkness never to be revived. As fucking grim as that is, I fear Reina will fall victim to a far worse fate, that she will return to her old ways and be the woman who hides behind her pain. A woman who lets the scars define her. Scars I fucking marred into her soul. Selfishly, I want to ask her to promise never to let that happen, but I’ve asked enough of her.

I’ve taken more than a man should ever take from a woman as fucking precious as the one standing before me, asking me to kiss her.

It’s time to give.

To drop to my knees and worship this woman.

This woman.

This beautiful fucking woman.

Touching my mouth to hers, I kiss her slowly, memorizing the feel of her lips. Her arms move to wind around my neck and her body melds into mine as my tongue runs along the seam of her mouth. Eagerly, she opens for me and I go in for a taste. For a man who has kneeled at Satan’s altar most of his life, I’ve been treated to a glimpse of Heaven every time my mouth has touched Reina’s and I reckon that’s some kind of fucking record for a sinner.

Lifting my other hand, I thread my fingers through her wet hair and angle her head, pushing us both under the spray of the shower as I feast on her mouth. My tongue sweeps over every inch, devouring her in controlled strokes. The soft whimpers that lurch from the back of her throat and the stabbing pain of her nails against my skin, excite me and before I can think better of it, I slam her back against the cool tile and tear my lips from hers. She blinks in shock as my fingers leave her hair and before she can protest, I touch my index finger to her lips, silencing her.

In one swift move, I drop to my knees and do what I should’ve done the moment I met her. In the house of Parrish, I find religion in the woman I love. I worship at her feet, praying she cleanses me of my sins and welcomes me into her kingdom.

I wrap my arms around her thighs and drag her body closer. Bowing my head, I touch my forehead to her flat stomach. She braces both hands on my shoulders and for a minute we both remain perfectly still, relishing in the comfort of one another’s touch.

It’s the little things we take for granted, like our senses. They are a gift and the ability to discover another person’s body through them is something we often think is our right. It isn’t until the privilege is stripped from you that you realize how simply fucking amazing it is to stare at someone you love. To touch them whenever you want. Their voice becomes the melody that soothes your soul and the taste of them your salvation.

Lifting my head, I wipe the water from my eyes and meet her gaze as I nudge her legs apart. Without looking away, I run my fingers up the insides of her thighs. Her hands move from my shoulders and her palms go flat against the tile as she spreads her feet shoulder width apart, giving me access to her pussy.

Her glorious fucking pussy.

A goddamn sanctuary.

Sliding a finger between her bare lips, a growl sounds from my throat when I find her soaking wet and that shit ain’t manufactured by no shower. That pussy is primed and ready for Parrish.

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